 كلمات اغنية All Out |
| [hellicopter propeller turning]
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| [Kastro & Napoleon]
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| We goin all out (aiiiite)
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| We goin all out (aiiiite)
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| We goin all out, watch ya motherfuckin mouth niggaz
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| (That's right, fuck these fag niggaz)
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| Do it, do it, do it
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| [2Pac]
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| Come hell or high water, down to slaughter opposers
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| Just another lost soul, stuck, callin Jehovah
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| Outlaw 'til it's over, brand as my strap
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| Back like a cobra, I stay drunk, cause I'm a mad man
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| Whenever sober, on a one man mission
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| My ambition to hold up the rap game
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| While I pluck holes in niggaz like donuts
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| And still down to die for all my souljas
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| Like hillbillies, they don't fear me
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| So refuse bringin war to the city
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| With each breath, death before dishonor
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| Never let you swallow me, no apologies, your honor
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| A general in war, I'm the first to bomb
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| With a squad of trusted killers, quick to move shit heavily armed
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| I'm similar to Saddam, sometimes I question Hussein
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| Like fiends frantic for that last vein, stuck in the game
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| I hit the scene like sandstorms, then transform, watch me
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| I take the figure of dirty niggaz, who all got me
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| While bitches wonderin who shot me
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| No love, keep a grudge, shootin sluggs like Muammar Quadaffi
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| Murder my friends, build a new posse
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| We takin shots at paparazzi, go and fly now, nigga like Rocky
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| You got a lot of nerve to play me
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| Another gay rapper, bustin caps to Jay-Z
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| (buck buck buck buck buck buck)
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| And still avoid capture, while y'all caught up in the rapture
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| Still after me, I'm in Jamacia sippin daquiris, no doubt
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| We used to havin nothin, then grabbin somethin and bustin
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| Wanted to be the thug-nigga, that my old man wasn't
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| I came to a field, catchin cases, litigation
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| Niggaz playa-hatin, got me crooked in all 50 states
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| I'm screamin DEATH ROW, throw my WESTSIDE, ain't no thang
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| We was raised off drive-by's, brought up to bang
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| We claim mob, M.O.B. if you be specific
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| We control all cash from Atlantic-Pacific
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| And get this, I'm hard to kill, when I peel with this live spot
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| Father, how the hell did I survive, these five shots?
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| Live it up, of give it up, and my demons
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| Late night, hear them screamin; we goin all out!
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| [Chorus: EDI]
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| We goin all out, bomb first till they fall out
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| Take them the war route, without a doubt
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| Ball, which means we all ride if it's on
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| Each nigga handle ya own, bring it on strong
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| If you got bills to pay, nigga go all out
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| Bustas playin with ya peeps, betta go all out
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| Try'na see the next day, nigga go all out
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| Obstacles in ya way, you better go all out
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| [Napoleon]
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| I'm on my land sled, walkin through the belly of the beats
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| Feelin like I'm all out, drunk as can be
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| It's plain to see, that we mobb niggaz hidin' in bushes
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| Claimin that they ride rough, but they soft as they cushion
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| They softer than bitches in the worst way, drownin in blood
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| Outlawz my blood brothers, I'd die for these thuggs
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| Say hi to this slug, it's a shame how some niggaz on the west coast
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| was ridin with Pac, but when he died, they went pop
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| I'm on the Jers to the fullest, like some west coast love
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| But after Pac stopped rappin, it ain't no west coast thug
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| Just westcoast what? To my real niggaz stuck in the street game
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| Cause rappers like Jay-Z be pumpin Kool-Aid through they veins
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| Is it true what I'm sayin? Slap your soft ass to the floor
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| And watch my fo-fo put peek holes through your door
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| I ride or die, but these other fag niggaz be bitin this
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| It's all from my heart when I was writin this
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| All out
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| [chorus]
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| [Kastro]
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| Now, we all ride, and down to die who wit us
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| Speak up, or get treated like you comin to kill us
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| Ain't nothin but squealers, in this rap game, swearin they rough
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| Tattooed up, and now them niggaz swearin they Pac
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| Stop that, and watch ya back, we ain't forgot bout cha
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| These glocks hot, and when shot, it'll bring the bitch up out cha
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| It's me, Kastro with the goattee
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| Walkin' like a OG, cause all these fag motherfuckers owe me
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| I pray to the thug lord, like that motherfuckers holy
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| Frontline soulja, till the heavens call me
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| I go all out, and if you real, you real
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| Feel what I'm talkin' bout, cause this game is ill
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| I live it, forbidden fruit, shoot, 'till they feel it
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| Livin' proof, Pac breed niggaz, they can't deal wit'
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| Holla back, right back, and watch ya mouth
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| Or get blood in it, WHAT, we goin' all out
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| Nigga
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| [chorus - 2X]
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| fool, you better go all out
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| keep goin' all out
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| all my niggaz goin' all out
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| without a muthafuckin' doubt
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| [EDI talking]
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| Ey, you niggaz just gon think that you gon be uhh
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| talkin and slippin on all of these motherfuckin records
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| and we ain't gon say shit, now it's 1999
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| It's a different grind, don't disrespect the Don
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| It's still war motherfuckers
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| So let's see you act like you know |
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